Of Irony and Lies
by Capersaurus Rex
Summary: Dave has grown tired of irony, and John has grown tired of pretending. Dave/John, mild past!John/Vriska and John/Karkat. First fic.
1. A Realization

Disclaimers: Homestuck is obviously not mine, and I make no money from it. If it were mine, DirkJake would already be canon, and most of the trolls would still be alive.

Warnings: John angsting.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: A Realization<strong>

It had been far too long since Dave Strider had seen John Egbert smile.

It seemed that John's slow emotional decline had started not long after they had all returned home at the conclusion of the game, and at first it was hard for the others to notice. The teen still told his terrible, awful, unfunny jokes. He still hated the smell of baking and watched his terrible movies and pulled those goofy grins with those equally goofy buck teeth, the ones he had never quite grown out of, no matter how much his jaw had reshaped with age. He even persisted in his habit of pulling pranks on his friends when he could, but even Dave could tell that the brunette's heart wasn't really in it. Every week seemed to take a little more effort to get a laugh out of him, and each day that the friends spent together led to a goodbye wave and a smile that was just a little less genuine. They all brushed it off at first; John was probably just calming down, "growing up", as they all must.

As John's emotional state continued to worsen with time, they all became less convinced. They had all done a great deal of growing up in the game, and never before had John looked so constantly tired, or so utterly sad. Something was terribly wrong with Egbert, eating away at the happy youth little by little, and scariest of all was that none of his friends could figure out why.

The day that Dave first caught on that something was really wrong was the day the group celebrated the Heir's 17th birthday. His friends were all with him, as they had been spending more and more time together in person since the conclusion of the (wonderful, awful, exciting, excruciating) game, and for once none of them were too busy or far away to make the trip. It was a somewhat unspoken rule among them that they would meet up on John's birthday in particular, as a secondary anniversary of sorts. "Game Day" they called it, a morbidly fond memorial of diving into hell and all they had gained and lost through doing so. The birthday party had gone mostly as expected; John received a multitude of shitty new Cage flicks from Jade, a copy of "Twilight: The Movie" as an ironic selection from Dave "_to add to the overall shittiness of your collection_", and a well-worn paperback copy of _Charlotte's Web_ from Rose. (They all pointedly pretended not to notice how John's eyes grow damp as he read the title of the book, giving him a tiny moment of silence. Yet another day to remember.) John managed to thank them all for the gifts, shooting Rose a meaningful, watery smile before resuming his default (_fake_) cheerfulness. Seizing hold of "Ghost Rider" and the DVD remote, John managed a large grin, holding up his spoils victoriously.

"Anybody want popcorn?"

As usual, after small grumblings of protest, John popped them all an outrageously large bowl of the fluffy snack and whined pitifully at them until the others would sit still and enjoy the disgusting display of Nic Cage's motorcycle-riding manliness. (They all saw this coming, and for John's sake, none of them had really planned to resist that much.)

It was only after they had watched all of the terrible movies (in a row, per John's request) and the girls had both fallen asleep on the couch that Dave noticed just how off-kilter the other boy was really acting. John wasn't smiling anymore, not even a fake one at this point, and he stared blankly at the credits rolling across the blackened screen. Usually, even those made him enthusiastic, as he got to see the name "Nicholas Cage" in the cast listing even once more. This uncharacteristic blankness unsettled Dave. That look in Egbert's eyes was upsetting him, for reasons he couldn't name. Even from behind the blur of his shades, the only word Dave could think of to describe them was "lost", and it was a look the blonde was catching in John's eyes more and more often as time progressed. (_When's the last time you heard him really laugh, Strider?) _Such a painful expression didn't suit the normally happy Heir, and Dave wanted it to stop. Leaving his seat, Dave stepped cautiously toward the brunette, unsure if talking to him right now would be a good idea or a terrible one, but he decided to take the risk. John deserved at least that much, after putting up with Dave's shit for so long.

"…Hey, man. Are you okay?"

John's head snapped up at the quiet voice, startling Dave as those intense blue (sapphire, _burning_) eyes met his own through two separate pairs of lenses. Seeming then to come to his senses, John slumped back slightly, face growing apologetic at Dave's flinch.

"Sorry, I just… I guess you scared me." He muttered, exhaling with a huff as his new grin - _fake fake fake _- became sheepish. "I, uh, wow. The movie's over. When did that happen? Heheh." Dave raised a skeptical eyebrow at this, unwilling to believe that Egbert had been tuning out even a minute of his favorite actor being famously shitty on the silver screen.

"Are you really all right, dude? You seemed out of it." He muttered back, voice not quite as deadpan as before. For one thing, he didn't want to wake the girls. He suspected that John would go right back to "normal" if they were awake, which brought about his second line of reasoning. Seeing how John was behaving now, how drained and tired he looked and how different it was from his usual dorky self, Dave was becoming legitimately concerned. It was like John had just dropped an act as soon as he had found a moment alone, and right now he was just too exhausted to pick it back up at full strength. Sending what was likely a forced smile his way, John attempted a laugh. It sounded sad, and it broke Dave's heart a little.

"Nah, Dave. I'm fine and dandy. I was just zoning out for a minute." A pause, and then the look in John's eyes sharpened to a hard point for one clear, brilliant second before his expression twisted back into a wry smile and the tired daze returned. "I was just thinking."

Nodding in acknowledgment and choosing not to press the issue, Dave returned to his chosen recliner for the night and settled in, ignoring the uncomfortable twisting in his gut and desperately pretending that it wasn't worry he was feeling.

For there, settled in the dark depths of John's eyes had been pure, wordless pain.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: This is actually my first fic! (Of course, it had to be Homestuck.) I'm unsure if I should continue it or not, depending on the feedback. What do you guys think? Should I churn out the rest, or drop it here? It'll likely be quite a few chapters.<strong>


	2. A Discovery

Disclaimer: Homestuck, not mine. You all know the drill.

Chapter Warnings: None, though it's a bit Davecentric.

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><p><strong>A Discovery<strong>

The next several days spent with John went about as well as one could expect, considering the company at hand.

The day after the party, Jade had resumed fussing over John excessively, as was now her usual order of business whenever the twins got a chance to visit each other. The two had grown far closer since discovering their shared genetics (as had Dave and Rose), which seemed to make perfect sense, especially given the circumstances. They had all needed somebody else to lean on during the cataclysmic events of the Game, and spending three years trapped alone with their newfound twin seemed to give them each the perfect (if necessary) bonding opportunity. However, back at home, Jade now seemed to be the one most intent on ignoring John's current condition. Dave sympathized, as he understood this to be a defense mechanism; nobody wants to see a sibling in pain, and so Jade was dealing with it the only way she currently knew how. She was playing along.

Due to Jade's mothering over-attention, it was currently very hard to find John alone at any given point in time. (Thinking of time as linear was something that Dave was still readjusting to even now, and it made him a bit uncomfortable, so he tried not to think about it too much.) Luckily, today seemed to be one of Harley's "nap attack" days, and as she slept peacefully on the sofa, Dave noted that her brother had disappeared from the living room that he had been haunting (with Jade's rapt attention) for the past several days.

Wondering what the young nerd could be doing to keep himself occupied without the help of his friends and figuring that it _had_ to be more entertaining than sitting here and watching Jade nap while Rose knitted quietly in a corner (_like a grandmother_, as he often told her), Dave wandered towards John's room to investigate. Seeing as how the door was still open a crack, it couldn't be anything private. Peering inside though, he was unsure quite what to make of what he saw.

John was sitting quietly at his desktop, an open Pesterchum window flashing blankly on the monitor. (_What the hell?_) It made no sense for John to have Pesterchum open, considering that the only people he regularly used it to talk to were all sitting in his house.

Dave leaned himself against the wall to avoid bumping the door, deciding not to enter or alert John to his presence just yet. After John typed in a few smooth keys commands, a bittersweet smile flickered across his face just as a sad, understanding grimace crossed Dave's. He recognized that set of keyboard commands, for he had typed them himself more times than he could count over the last year. John was opening his Pesterlog's history. The brunette clearly missed the trolls, they all did, and now rereading their old conversations was the closest that any of them would be able to get. Their timelines had been disconnected for good after the game had ended. A flash of teal and red crossed Dave's mind before he could stop them, and his frown deepened slightly.

Refocusing on what was happening on the desktop but unable to make out words at this distance, (not that he would want to, considering how personal some of these chat logs could be,) Dave lowered his shades slightly and expected to see that characteristic pale cerulean complimenting John's own deeper hue. It would explain why John wanted some time alone.

He was therefore surprised – and more than a little confused – when instead of any form of blue, the mass of text John had opened was a terribly familiar shade of ashen grey. Dave stepped away from the door and the obviously personal moment, trying to get his swirling thoughts together.

The smile – the actual, authentic _smile_ – that had graced John's face as he read the grey text had sent an unknown stab of emotion through Dave's chest. The brunette had looked so damn _fond_ in that moment, so sad and wistful while also managing to look happier than Dave had seen him in months, despite the fact that the majority of the text was probably cursing the humans' very existence. Despite those implications alone, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more behind that smile, a deeper layer that other people (himself included) were probably not supposed to see. Dave swallowed thickly, unsure of how much he had just intruded on John's personal life, and left wondering why the thought bothered him so much.

Returning downstairs quietly and leaving John to his own devices, Dave took back his seat on the couch, his brain refusing to relinquish one strand in particular; a strand which hurt in a way he couldn't explain. At least now he had a hint of what was going on.

That fond, achingly sad smile was the first genuine thing that Dave had seen from John since the game had ended.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I've been prompted to continue this, so I will!<br>**

**I apologize for the short chapter(s), I'm trying to write a decent amount every day so I can update somewhat consistently. ****(Also, if I get too OOC with the characters, feel free to let me know so I can... well, stop doing that.)**


	3. A Confrontation

Disclaimer: Last I checked, I was not Andrew Hussie. So nope, still not mine.

Chapter warnings: Dave swears, and Rose is meddlesome. (If that surprises you, then you have obviously never read Homestuck. What are you even doing here?)

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><p><strong>A Confrontation<strong>

Another week at John's passed by without much incident, the group all having decided to extend this stay for as long as they could. It had been what felt like ages since they had all been together at the same time, scheduling conflicts often stopping one or more of them from attending these little gatherings. Even John seemed reluctant to let them leave despite his recent distance, glad to have all of them in one place, and they all intended to take full advantage of it. It was odd now to think that before Sburb, none of them had ever met in person; it felt like they had known each other their whole lives.

Dave used the available time to do some subtle observation, his curiosity about John having grown stronger after the little chat incident. He wanted to know what the fuck was going on. The small knot in his gut had yet to disappear, and he was now determined to get to the bottom of things, for his own sake as much as John's. Dave had successfully managed to avoid catching the Heir in the middle of any more "personal moments", and he felt glad of this, but also mildly frustrated. It had been a wonderful look into what may be going through John's twisted little head, but it was also just so damn nosey that the Knight couldn't bring himself to try again.

John, on his part, had been putting up a rather amazing front of normalcy for the past few days. Aside from those small, telling expressions that crossed his face when he thought nobody was looking (but oh, how Dave was looking; it seemed that his shades were finally good for something), he had been behaving almost TOO normally. After the last several months of steady decline, it now seemed as though John was finally back to his old self, despite the now-constant underlying sense of _off-_ness about him. Dave was almost impressed.

He continued to observe John's behavior, gathering small clues when he could. He was a bit confused when Rose – who had been uncharacteristically silent during this last visit, though Dave had been too preoccupied to notice – pulled him aside in the hall one day, dragging him into a nearby empty room and giving him one of her _looks_.

"We need to talk."

Disliking the tone his sister was using, Dave stuck his hands defensively in his pockets, raising his shoulders slightly and bringing up his best look of '_I don't give a shit what you have to say_.' It never held her off for long – nothing did, really – but it was the only defense he still knew how to use, and he would be damned if he would give in to his twin's meddling (as he suspected this was) quite so easily. Then again, he was unsure what this could be about (he hadn't done anything to piss her off recently, had he?) and it was making him a bit nervous. The blonde stared at her brother for a long moment, making eye contact through his dark shades as easily as if they were one of her crystal balls. (_Fuck, how does she always find a way to do that._) He figured it was a Seer thing, but that didn't make the feeling any less uncomfortable. He wore his shades for a reason.

"…You've been watching John awfully closely this week."

His sister's accusation jolted him slightly. That was not what he had been expecting. It seemed that Dave had been a bit less subtle than he'd hoped. His deadpan expression flickered to alarm for just a moment, before managing to rein it back into his usual look of uncaring. The slip was small, and wouldn't have been noticeable to anybody that hadn't already spent years memorizing Dave's facial expressions, but unfortunately for him Rose now filled that position uniquely. (The only other person with this ability had been the now-absent Bro, Dave thought with a mental wince, shoving that thought aside to be dealt with later.)

"Look, I don't know what's going on with John either, Dave. None of us do." He mentally sighed. "What I do know, though, is that he's trying pretty damn hard not to draw our attention to whatever it is that he's hiding. He's been trying even harder now that he knows you're looking." She muttered in that lilting tone of hers, crossing her arms over her chest. Dave swallowed minutely. (_Fuck. He couldn't have noticed that, could he?_)

Rose's look sharpened slightly, and Dave wondered if maybe some of their freaky powers hadn't fully disappeared after all. It seemed as though she had read his thoughts. (That, or his expression had betrayed him again.) Without waiting for a verbal response, Rose continued.

"Of _course_ he noticed. You've been staring at him behind those secretive glasses of yours all week, Dave. It would take an idiot NOT to notice. John may be naïve sometimes, but he's not an idiot. You know that." She finished, glaring at him for a moment before quickly resuming her own calm demeanor. It was something the siblings had in common; a default setting like that was automatic. It made conversations easier. Dave hesitated, trying to think of a way to explain himself out of this without sounding like an ass. He drew a blank, so he did the next best thing.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

At this, Rose quirked an eyebrow at him, one corner of her lips curving into her signature look of annoyance. That had been one of Dave's automatic answers, and she was clearly not in the mood to humor him. He hunched his shoulders a little more, not liking where she was going with this and unsure why she was bothering.

"Listen, Dave… I can tell that you're worried, but simply _spying_ on John for days on end and waiting for something to happen isn't going to do either of you any good." she continued, and Dave let out a small huff of impatience. She was going into psychology mode again, and it seemed that she wasn't going to let him escape this little private session without saying her piece. "Look. The very fact that he hasn't confided to us about things should mean something to you. You know he trusts us all more than anything, and he wouldn't be withholding this from us without a good reason. You've been staring him down this week like he's some kind of specimen to be examined." (_Hypocrite._) "Whatever's going on, you're probably just making him feel worse."

...This last comment stung, so much so that it caught Dave a bit off guard. He managed not to let it show through his expression, though that was one trick he was having more and more trouble with as time went on. (It was getting even harder to hide certain emotions from himself, but that was a whole other can of worms that he felt didn't need to be opened just yet.) He was afraid he might be losing his touch.

Having had enough of this psychological 'sibling chat', Dave shrugged noncommittally and stepped from the room without further comment. Rose didn't try to stop him, but the look she sent him was a mildly warning one. '_Leave John alone._' That twist in his gut was still refusing to subside, but now it was joined by mild anxiety. It seemed like Rose knew more than she was saying, and curiosity was getting to him. (…_But when the fuck is that NOT the case?_)

Passing John in the hallway on his way back to the living room, Dave noted that the Heir was pointedly avoiding making eye contact – this was unusual, even considering John's recent state – and a small stab of guilt joined the tangle of other emotions he was still trying to ignore. Maybe he _was_ making things worse by being so nosey, but he couldn't help it.

After seeing his best friend such a mess the other night, he felt obligated to figure things out, even if he didn't really know how to go about doing so. Being so emotionally touchy-feely had never been Dave's forte. Watching John pass him from the corner of his eye (_and I thought we were supposed to stop doing that_), he noticed the brunette lingering in front of a certain doorway – running a hand over it smoothly, almost affectionately, despite the hang of his head and the sad angle of his shoulders – before continuing upstairs to his own room and shutting the door quietly behind him. He hadn't looked back to see if Dave was following him.

A familiar sense of gravity and loss hit Dave along with the realization of what he had just witnessed, and he wondered for that brief moment if maybe he understood John a little better than he had previously thought.

That room had belonged to John's father.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Yes, I am sticking with this! <strong>**How am I doing so far? **

**I keep making these chapters Davecentric, but that will stop soon... John's just being very secretive about things right now, but they WILL start interacting.**

**...Soon. Eventually.**

**I swear. :'D**


	4. A Request

Disclaimer: If Homestuck was mine, I would not have to save up my money to buy its merchandise.

Chapter Warnings: Dave is in denial. (Really, though, what else is new?)

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><p><strong>A Request<strong>

It had been proven in the past that Dave really hated going home to an empty apartment. Now, that fact was more apparent than ever.

A little over a month had passed since John's extended birthday visit had ended, and the long stretch of silence after so many weeks spent among his friends was getting to him.

After having spent his life with the constant, looming presence of his brother - or was it father? (_Does it really matter?_) - and then spending three more of his most formative years in close quarters with Rose and the trolls, Dave was a bit ashamed to admit to himself that he simply didn't know how to be alone. His friends could no longer be online all the time, and during more hectic weeks, Dave would often find himself zoning out, staring at walls for hours and trying to figure out just what to do with himself. His friends all sympathized, even if it was never expressly stated, and they often went out of their way to invite each other over for long visits when the desire for company became too great to ignore.

They were all lonely, and there was no hiding that fact. This time, as rare of an occurrence as he tried to pretend it was, it was Dave's turn to require some company.

Unfortunately, Rose and Jade both had "important business" to take care of back at home, and bothering them about something as silly as 'not wanting to stay here' went against his Strider Code of Morals. (That was totally a thing, and it was something he now lived by.)

Rose needed to talk to her business associate (_because seriously, only _Rose_ fucking _Lalonde_ could have a business associate by age 17_) about selling a part of her mother's extensive wine collection, and Jade had to hire and work with a team of geologists to make sure that her island's semi-active volcano wasn't at a permanent risk of melting her house. Neither of them needed a desperate blonde tagging along and getting in the way of their productivity.

That, much to Dave's discomfort, left John as his only option.

Dave always felt incredibly awkward about asking John to stay over, even though he knew that he shouldn't. John was Dave's best bro, and there shouldn't have been anything awkward about asking a best bro to stay with you for a while. It was a totally normal thing to do. (So what if having John see all of his personal belongings - including a Smuppet or two, which Dave felt the need to hold on to based purely on irony, and in no way some deep-rooted need to honor his Bro - made him feel oddly self-conscious. So what, if maybe spending any alone time with John at all made Dave feel odd in a way he couldn't really place. Rose could jump to all the conclusions she wanted. It meant nothing, and Dave refused to dwell on it.)

All the same, Dave felt his hand reaching for his phone, fingers hovering over the familiar number without much thought. He had been using Pesterchum less often these days, finding that it was somewhat soothing to hear a friend's voice on the other end of a conversation instead of just cold, albeit colorful, text. He guessed that it must've had something to do with spending time with Rose, seeing as how they'd been conversing in person for long enough that he'd grown used to it, but a nagging in the back of his head told him otherwise.

(_It's because typing makes it too easy to for us to cover shit up. _

…_That used to be something you enjoyed._)

A few rings, and a familiar voice answered curiously.

"…Hello?"

Dave fidgeted despite himself, straightening his shades and wondering why this was always so awkward.

"Hey, bro. It's uh, Strider." He began, ignoring his stomach's odd flip of nervousness and berating himself for sounding so hesitant. (_Of course he knows who it is, dumbass. Nobody else calls him "bro", it is an easy fucking giveaway_.) "I was wondering if you were busy."

There was a long pause on the other end, and Dave wondered for a second if John had hung up. Considering how the brunette had been acting throughout the duration of his birthday gathering, Dave almost wouldn't have been surprised. Almost. (Rose's lecture echoed in his head again for a moment, and he suppressed a wince.)

"Oh. Hey, Dave." Another pause on John's end. "No, I'm not really busy with anything. Why?"

He sounded hesitant, and there was an odd, stressed sort of undertone to his voice - though that may have just been the tinny quality of the phone - but at least he hadn't hung up. Dave wasn't sure what he would've done if he had.

Still, he mentally swore. John was apparently missing the meaning of his statement (though if this was intentional or not, Dave was unsure), and that meant that Dave was going to have to spell it out. That meant more awkwardness. (_Fuck. I used to be good at this sort of shit._) Another pause, this time his own, and Dave couldn't remember a phone conversation ever being quite this awkward. (_Word of the motherfucking day._)

"…Well. Wanna hang out?" he muttered, trying to phrase the request in a casual, Strider-ish manner. He was unsure if it worked. John seemed to sigh, before letting out a small chuckle - and probably grinning, if Dave's intuition was to be believed.

"Sure, Dave. Sounds great. Your place or mine?"

(_Fuck. He even sounds fake over the phone._)

"Erm… here's fine." Dave replied, trying not to take John's question in any context other than the one given. Not that he would need to, because nothing outside of that context ever crossed Dave's mind. Seriously. Not ever. "My fridge is actually stocked with food, for once."

John laughed again, seeming to accept this reasoning on the matter without further question.

"I'll get my backpack. I should 'Port there in an hour or so, I've just got to take care of some things around the house first."

If there was one thing Dave would always be grateful for, it would be Jade's Transportalizers – now often known as just 'Ports' in casual conversation. She had made improvements to many of her house's technologies soon after their return home, including several that she had invented herself. Nobody could have denied Jade's genius beforehand, but still, Dave was impressed by some of her results. She had released one or two of these "inventions" to the public, and was currently living off of the resulting fortune. She had also been using some of said fortune to cover her friends' living expenses (much to their initial protest), but they had a hard time complaining for long; not when the alternative was homelessness. Not many places would hire an emancipated 16 year old, let alone any place that would pay enough to support said teen's house and/or need for food.

One of the modifications she had made to the 'Porter was a shorter travel time between long distances (using some global grid mapping system or something that went completely over Dave's head, as science was not his thing), which had the added benefit of letting the four friends routinely visit in person without the expense and hassle of traveling by plane.

(_Yet another thing I owe her for._)

All this reminiscing left Dave rather startled when the signature spark-buzz of the 'Porter came from his living room, and though it went against his 'image' completely, he couldn't help it. He jumped. It seemed that John caught it as well, considering the momentary look on his face, but thankfully he said nothing. It was widely acknowledged (_if 4 people count as a "wide network"_) that Dave Strider didn't get startled, he didn't jump, and that was all there really was to say on the subject.

John had indeed brought a backpack, slung over his shoulder and presumably puffy with the bulk of clothes, which he never bothered with unless he anticipated staying somewhere for more than a few days. Maybe the oblivious Heir could read Dave's tone better than he thought.

Dave, though he had yet to explain the thought to himself, was both pleased and terrified by the prospect.

John gave him an odd look – though _all_ of his looks had been somewhat odd lately, this one was slightly more out of place than usual, nearing contemplative – before stepping over and casually dumping his stuff on the couch, and just like that, the strange moment between them was broken.

"…I brought movies." John said, and offered Dave one of his awkward, derpy little smiles.

And seeing it there, just for a second, Dave was able to pretend that everything was okay.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: ...Derp. I am sorry for this terrible chapter. die**

**I just feel the need to say that in this future-verse, I'm ignoring the existence of the Alpha kids (even though I love them) ****to limit the time shenanigans going on here. It's also a LOT easier to write about the kids missing their parents than it would be to write about them meeting said parents as teenagers from the future.**

**I'm also trying to be a bit realistic with their home situations, and it seems to me like 1) not very many regular, newly orphaned teenagers could make their own house payments in any logical sense, and 2) a lot of Jade's inventions seem really freaking advanced, but mostly unique to her little island, so I hope I dealt with that in a way that makes sense.**


	5. A Conflict

Disclaimer: Stated in previous chapters; it's redundant by this point.

Chapter Warnings: ...None, really, though Dave has some unresolved angst.

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><p><strong>A Conflict<strong>

The first days alone with John went by without much fuss. John had thought to bring over a spare game controller along with a few of his (shitty, awful, probably-starring-Nicholas-Cage) movies, and the two had proceeded to spend some time together in the time-honored tradition of the average teenage male. (This, of course, meant sitting on the couch for hours doing nothing but eating snacks and playing Halo.) Dave was losing horribly – for once – but refused to admit that this was likely because he was paying much more attention to John's face than he was to his TV screen.

The look that Dave had seen in the Heir's eyes on the night of his birthday still haunted him, and having John here and seemingly so relaxed felt strange after the tense atmosphere at the party. It really should've been stranger to think of John Egbert with a _lack_ of tension as odd, but all it really did was put things in perspective. Dave knew it was easier to loosen up when there were less people around and observing him, and he wondered if they had something in common in that respect, at least nowadays.

His own shades once again came to mind. They really were a blessing, sometimes.

Rose's lecture - "_…now that he knows you're watching him…" – _echoed through his head once again, and Dave noticed that John was, indeed, now staring back at him, eyebrow quirked. It seemed that Dave had been blatantly staring at John during his little mental tirade (and probably for quite some time now, if John's expression was any judge). Even with his aforementioned shades blocking direct two-way eye contact, Dave couldn't make any excuses for why his head had been completely turned (aside from zoning out while staring at John), so instead he said nothing, clearing his throat self-consciously and returning his full attention to the game on-screen.

Apparently, John wasn't buying it. The brunette's half of the screen remained paused, disallowing Dave to continue.

(_Shit._)

"Is there a bug on my face or something?" John eventually asked, smiling crookedly at Dave and clearly trying to go for his usual tone - oblivious amusement with a hint of sarcasm - but unable to fully hide the stressed undertones to his voice. (_So_ _it wasn't just the phone._) Dave supposed that now that he'd been caught, it was as good a time as ever (though there would probably never be a _good_ time, not really) to bring up what was on his mind. All the same, he paused to gather his thoughts. John seemed to take this small silence as Dave's unwillingness to speak, and he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"…You've been acting weird, Egbert. Since the party." He began hesitantly, and John's smile fell slightly. (_Bingo._) "I mean, weird even for you."

(Dave chose not to mention how truly off-putting John's behavior had been, even before the party, considering just how much effort the brunette seemed to have been putting into hiding behind those grins of his. He could offer John that much, at least.)

John seemed to really try to bring up one of those defensive grins right then, but it faltered halfway, and it seemed that he eventually stopped trying altogether. Falling into a neutral expression, he sighed. And just like that, the pain was back in those deep blue eyes, caught by Dave for just for a moment before John's eyelids slid shut behind his glasses. Taking a deep, if subtle, breath – probably trying to collect himself before speaking (and with that, Dave sympathized) – John paused, then looked back over at him and managed a small smile. Not a grin, just a small upturn of his lips, but even that seemed to take so much out of him.

"I've just had a lot on my mind lately, Dave. It's nothing to worry about." Once more, Dave felt a tiny piece of his heart breaking.

(_Oh, but it is._)

Dave set down his game controller, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his shades. It felt incredibly odd for him to be the one to approach somebody – let alone John Egbert – about something as stupid as feelings (_because aren't Striders not supposed to have those? When did you stop caring?_), but he felt that it needed to be done.

"Dude, you know that's bullshit." He declared in his usual deadpan, refusing to get too touchy-feeling about something like this just yet, feeling that it would probably make John almost more uncomfortable than it would himself. (Just because he was starting the conversation didn't mean he was begging for one of Rose's girly psycho-chats. That just wasn't happening.)

John looked chastised for a moment, false smile dropping as a small furrow formed between his eyebrows. As disheartening as it was to see, Dave took it as a good sign. It meant that John was dropping some of his pretense. Still he seemed reluctant to speak, but Dave hadn't been the Knight of Time for nothing. He could wait.

"Dave, it's been four years."

A sinking feeling filled the blonde's chest at this, knowing and disliking where it was headed, but he dutifully ignored the sensation and prompted John to continue with a small questioning hum.

"The Game; It's been four years, one month, and three weeks since we started playing, Dave." The brunette indeed continued, returning his now-intense (_burning, how does he make blue _burn_ like that?_) gaze to the blonde. Unsure quite what that comment was supposed to mean, it was Dave's turn to fidget uncomfortably.

He would call it ironic that John had been the one to keep track of the exact amount of time, but he realized with no small amount of surprise that the word left a sour taste in his mouth.

"…Yeah, and?"

John's frown deepened slightly at Dave's comment, and he wondered for a moment just how this conversation (could it even be called that?) had turned around put him on the defensive end like this. This was supposed to be about John's problems, not about poking into the swirling depths of his own head. That was Rose's job, and also somewhere he didn't really want to go. Now or ever.

The Heir gave him a _look_ then, and Dave's feeling of sinking dread tripled. He was tempted to back out of this conversation, regretting ever starting it, hand creeping back toward his controller in a desperate attempt to break up the serious atmosphere he had accidentally created.

What John said next, however, was nothing like he had been expecting.

"We lost people, Dave. So many people." A pause, and another flicker of pain, before those blue eyes hardened. "But it's been four fucking years, and you're still pretending like you don't even miss him."

It hit Dave like a punch to the chest. He was left speechless for a long time, gears in his head grinding to a shuddering halt as he tried to process the words that had just left John's mouth. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. John was supposed to be the one freaking out, and telling him what was wrong, and Dave was supposed to stay cool and collected. But it hurt. It hurt _so much_, more than anything had in a long while, jabbing underneath that icy mask he had somehow managed to keep up for all these years. Dave then did the only think he could still think to do. John had seen through him, and suddenly nothing was okay anymore.

"Yo. Fuck you, man." He snapped, standing from the couch and leaving the room, shutting the door roughly behind him. He realized that he had started this. He knew that he was being a coward. (_You hypocritical piece of shit._) Right now, none of that mattered.

He couldn't cope, so he fled.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: ...Can I apologize now?<strong>

**I'm trying to make this fic more about John and Dave's mutual issues, hence the lesser focus on John the last few chapters, but you WILL find out what's wrong with him! I promise! **

**Once I get to be less of a lazy bum, and actually, you know... WRITE those chapters.**

**(On a side note, thank you to all those who Reviewed or added me to Story Alerts/Favorites/etc. It really makes my day.)**


	6. A Glimpse

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, and a serious case of "Dave Actually Has Feelings".

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><p><strong>A Glimpse<strong>

The hot stone of the rooftop felt rough and comforting under Dave's hands as he settled himself on the edge, looking down over the familiar cityscape below. This flat, empty expanse of a roof – an empty space that still managed to hold so many memories – was now where Dave always came to think.

There was something very soothing about heights, and he wondered quite often if Davesprite (who had been a twisted, offshoot version of himself, it was always odd to think) may have agreed if he were still here. If maybe his Bro had felt the same way.

Dave then wondered, briefly, if things could have been different.

(_If you hadn't been such a fucking failure at everything._)

His hand ran fondly over a sword-left gash in the concrete, collateral damage from a time that now seemed far too long ago, and resisted the sudden urge to cry. Slipping off his shades, he set them beside himself on the ledge and pressed his palms to his eyes. He didn't want to get emotional right now.

This reverie was broken at the sound of footsteps on the roof behind him, and Dave quickly replaced his eyewear, half-turning to see the silhouetted figure of the person currently responsible for his mental state. It wasn't John's fault, he knew that, but Dave felt the need to place blame on somebody outside of himself for once. For a moment, he tried. He managed a halfhearted glare in the brunette's direction, but he couldn't keep it up for long. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he turned back to stare at the featureless city buildings below.

John seemed to take Dave's resignation as some form of forgiveness (which he supposed it probably was), stepping over and taking a seat beside the blonde on the concrete slab that passed for a roof's edge. He said nothing for a long moment, which Dave appreciated, using the time to pull it together.

The silence continued, and Dave felt guilt beginning to creep up his spine for snapping at John like that. This was – he hated to say it, but he was nothing if not accurate – his own fault. Turning his gaze away from the street below, Dave looked at John and was surprised by the deeply contemplative look on the Heir's face.

John turned then, and they made eye contact (though Dave always privately shuddered when people managed to do that) through twin pairs of lenses. John looked sad in that moment, but more than that, he looked determined.

"If I talk, are you going to run away again?"

Dave winced slightly at the dull, sad undertone to John's voice, and his guilt deepened. The phrasing also stuck somewhere in his chest (_Almost like a sword, ha ha, you are so fucking funny, Dave._) and he fought the urge to curl in on himself as he sensed the tone of the impending conversation. He needed to man the fuck up, right now, and sit in the hole he'd been digging by prying into John's problems.

"Nah, man. I'm not going anywhere."

John got a funny look then. Dave dutifully ignored it.

The brunette then let out one of the saddest, most exhausted sighs that Dave had ever heard, and the metaphorical sword in his chest got a rough twist. Dave wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to know so badly it was killing him, but he was also deeply afraid of the truth killing him as well.

(_It's already killing John._)

They sat in silence for another long moment, and it seemed that neither one of them wanted to break the almost-peace of the hush that had formed between them. It was because of this that John's next statement caught him so very off guard, eyebrow quirking in puzzlement.

"Did you know that Karkat has red blood, Dave?"

The Knight wasn't really sure what to say in response to that, head tilting slightly in confusion at the seemingly random topic change. John continued. "He has red blood. _Bright_ red. It's practically unheard of for his species, mutant even, and he kept it a secret for years." Suddenly, Dave knew where this was headed, and his gut dropped like it was full of lead. (_Fuck fuck fuck fuck._) "…I never got to see it, not in person, but he told me all about it once." His face fell at the words, and Dave was reminded of that small smile back in John's room so long ago. It was just as unsettling to think about now.

John gave him one of those burning looks then – when did he get so good at that? – sending a significant glance at Dave's shades. Suddenly, though he couldn't explain why, Dave was deeply afraid. Rose had seen his eyes before. Hell, so had Jade on accident, and even then Dave hadn't felt as terrified or vulnerable as he did when he thought of red meeting blue for the first time. (_What the fuck is wrong with me?_)

He had promised not to run away, so he attempted the next best thing.

"Dude, you're changing the fucking subject." (_Hypocrite._)

John gave Dave a small smile then, and it seemed that the blonde was going to get away with it for now. He knew it wouldn't last long, but 'for now' would have to be enough. Another sigh and a small nod, and Dave felt some of the tension (because he wasn't going to call it panic) leaving his shoulders.

He couldn't help but wonder if the pointed comment about Karkat's blood had been John's own way of putting off this moment, and the thought made him feel a little better. At least he wasn't the only one using convoluted methods.

However, it was finally time to address John's side of the issue, and here on the silent rooftop they were both out of excuses. Dave figured John wasn't going to open up without prompting (something they now had in common), but there were so many things to talk about that Dave hardly knew where to start. This was delicate business, poking away at John's head to reveal the wounds responsible for these scars visible on the surface. The Game had been, simply put, a clusterfuck for all of them. (_Rose would be so much better at this._) The silence persisted until finally, John thought to speak first.

"The girls don't really seem to get what it's like."

Dave quickly guessed what topic John was addressing, considering the brunette's comment on the couch earlier, waiting for John to continue and ignoring that sword twisting away in his chest. No running away this time. He could do this. John was still his best friend (though subtly Dave felt there was more to it than that, but he shoved down that stray thought like the distraction it was), and the two of them needed to talk about stuff like this.

"…I mean, Rose's mom was always pretty out of the picture from what I can tell, and Jade never even _had_ parents. Not really." A sigh, and Dave's suspicions were confirmed. "There is so much about this fucking situation that they could never understand. What losing a dad is like."

Another twist of the sword, but Dave knew with another guilty grimace that none of them could really understand what John had gone through. What he was still going through. None of them had been remotely close to their parents, not like John had been. Bro had been distant at best, and downright neglectful at his worst. There was another long pause. This time it seemed that John was the one attempting to keep it together. His shoulders were hunched, and it looked as if he were in pain. (_Fuck, he probably is._)

"The last time I saw him, he tried to reach me, Dave."

The blonde felt his heart constrict painfully within his already aching chest as he spotted small, inconspicuous tears sneaking out from under those silvery glasses. It seemed that John was finally breaking; the years of carefully placed veneer were cracking away in front of Dave's eyes, here on this silent rooftop. The last intact fragments of Dave's flimsy heart were finally crushed to pieces as a tiny, muffled sob left the Heir's throat. He was afraid that at this rate, it may never be whole again.

"We tried _so hard_, Dave. I almost got to him. But I never reached him, and now I never will."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I hope I am still on track with this. Since I free-write this whole thing, I generally don't know where a chapter is going until I actually write it. That's why it sometimes takes so long. ^^'<strong>

**Though, that does mean that I listen to your reviews in case you guys have suggestions!**

**Today, John reveals one of his fundamental issues, and also brings up one of Dave's. (More reveals are to come later, now that they've broken the Icy Shell of Sad Boy Feelings.) I hope you enjoy(ed) reading!**


	7. An Embrace

Chapter Warnings: None, really. Awkward glances?

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><p><strong>An Embrace <strong>

Dave sat for a moment and watched John's mask peeling away, but after the shuddering despair he felt in himself after that small sob, he felt his own masks (for he had several) beginning to fall to pieces. He couldn't do this. He couldn't sit by and be "himself", cold and distant and characteristically hidden under those shades of his – be a fucking _Strider_ – while his best bro (_and more, shut up, we're not thinking or talking about that right now_) fell apart on his rooftop. That wasn't cool, and John clearly needed him right now. He wasn't going to be an ignorant dick today.

Dave scrambled for what to do about this before finally settling on something that defied most of his trained instinct. Bro's influence be damned, Dave scooted closer along the ledge, leaning forward and gently drawing the crying John to his chest.

John seemed almost as hesitant as Dave did and tensed up at the unexpected contact, but eventually collapsed into the impromptu embrace, wrapping his arms weakly around Dave's shoulders and continuing to let the tears fall quietly. Dave was not terribly good at comforting others, as he didn't have much practice, but he found himself rubbing awkward circles on the brunette's back as the tears soaked into his shirt. They were warm.

_John_ was warm. Very warm.

Dave was unsure how appropriate that particular train of thought was, given this or any other situation. It was therefore quickly discarded.

The brunette spent a long while clinging to Dave and releasing what was probably years' worth of pent up emotion, but it eventually grew too awkward for the both of them and he drew away slightly. Dave however kept a reassuring (possessive?) arm around John's shoulders as the two resumed staring down at the sidewalk below. Eventually, John found it in him to speak again, and Dave was incredibly relieved to hear that some of the almost permanent tension seemed to have drained from his voice. When he mentioned his father again, there was still pain, but it was now laced with fondness instead of despair.

"There's just so much he missed, Dave. I was his son. He was supposed to see me grow up."

A small nod and a repressed wince on Dave's part, as he could understand perfectly. They may not have been little kids anymore when the Game started, but there were still many landmarks left in life for a 13 year old that a parent was supposed to see. They would all be missing out on those, and each felt the impact with every day that passed. John more than any of them; his family was actually normal.

"He was supposed to teach me how to shave and drive and tie a Windsor knot. Really boring stuff. Normal teenage boy stuff… I didn't think it was stuff I would need him for."

(_Bro would have told you to figure it out for yourself… heh "Like a man", he would say._)

Dave suppressed the old, bitter surge of jealousy at how very normal John's father had been, but he stopped himself, knuckles tightening on John's shoulder incrementally. There was no point or need for that kind of thought anymore. Not even ironically. Dave nodded slightly, and John continued.

"He was even supposed to let me borrow an old suit for prom, and be there at the door when I brought home my first date… but, heh, _Vriska's_ the only girl I've ever…"

He trailed off oddly here, and after a moment of silence, Dave looked over to find John staring at him in an unfamiliar way the blonde couldn't really place. It seemed intense (_burning blue, how the fuck does he do that_), but not entirely intentional, and it made his stomach squirm strangely. He quickly averted his eyes, blaming the odd choice of words on John's absent rambling, and blaming that tiny flush on those tannish cheeks on the Texas heat. He cleared his throat slightly, which seemed to knock John from whatever mental world he'd withdrawn to, and the brunette suddenly looked very embarrassed.

"Erm. Gosh. I'm sorry for ranting like that." He muttered, standing and brushing imaginary dust from his pants. "Umm. Should we go inside? It's getting fucking hot out, and we never had lunch."

Dave was amused by John's judgment of the temperature (those Washington folks had no tolerance for heat) but glad for the escape from their little feelings chat, standing as well and stretching - (_Holy fuck, John did not stare at your abs, stop making shit up) _– before rubbing at his eyes under his shades and following John to the staircase. He felt simultaneously elated and confused.

He was glad that John was finally opening up, and one piece of the giant clusterfuck of a "Something's Really Wrong" puzzle had been firmly clicked into place, though it was clear that more was missing. He was confused, however, as to what the fuck that look from John had meant, and why it had made him feel so strange.

John Egbert was not supposed to give him butterflies.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Soooo, I haven't updated in forever. I'm sorry. :'D<strong>  
><strong>I found myself surprisingly busy over spring break, but I remembered that this exists and I should be updating semi-regularly again.<strong>

**Also, Dave amuses me when he's in denial/half oblivious, so I've decided he shall remain as such until Plot Things I decide on happen. xD**


	8. A Discussion

****Disclaimer: Homestuck, not mine, no profits, the usual.

Chapter Warnings: Shameless Filler

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><p><strong>A Discussion<strong>

Dave was happy, and this was strange.

John's visit at his house was continuing relatively normally, and despite the odd flavor their feelings jam on the roof had added to the entire visit, the brunette was acting astonishingly more like himself. It seems the opportunity to vent had taken at least some of the weight from his shoulders, and while Dave knew they still had plenty they should talk about, John kept sending him these odd, grateful little smiles and he wondered why the Heir hadn't talked to any of them about any of this in the first place. _(Hypocrisy City, occupation: Dave Strider._) John had also taken to crashing in a sleeping bag on Dave's floor some nights, and the blonde didn't quite know what to make of that, but the company was refreshing.

It was day five since the talk on the roof, and the two boys were sitting playing a casual game of Nazi Zombies on the couch, when John tentatively broached The Subject.

"Dave, why do you still wear those shades?"

The question made Dave pause for a long moment - barely managing to avoid being devoured on-screen, to John's mild squawk of protest - before he pointedly resumed playing and shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. "No reason, dude. Why?"

John's eyebrow quirked nearly audibly at the dismissal, probably into that wonderfully sardonic expression of his, and he might have also rolled his eyes. Dave couldn't know for sure, as he was currently pointedly looking in the other direction. John continued, clearly unimpressed, and likely emboldened by Dave's defensiveness.

"Yes, Dave. For _no reason_, you, every single day, wear the same exact pair of sunglasses you've owned for four years, and insist on keeping them on at all times even when it's impractical to do so." he deadpanned, Dave's shoulders slinking slightly, though his eyes stayed firmly affixed to the television screen. When Dave failed to respond, he sighed and returned his attention to the game. The two played in relative silence for a while longer, muttering under the sounds of zombies and gunshots, before the strange tension hanging in the air was too much for Dave to deal with.

"Look. They're just dumb shades, John. I like them." John's eyebrow quirked higher, reaching Spockish proportions, and Dave tried not to panic. "They're ironic." he blurted, hating the word for a moment as he said it, no longer nearly as funny as he used to think it was. Now it was just stupid, and he was stupid for saying it, this was a stupid question, and he _really_ fucking didn't want to talk about this right now. John sighed, and Dave hoped that the brunette would just drop it. Egbert could be a derp sometimes, but he was smart, and surprisingly observant, but Dave didn't want to think about either of those right now either. He frowned and momentarily pondered heading for the roof again before deciding that would be a really, really bad idea. (_Coward. Don't be a little bitch, and fucking talk to your friend for once._) John was opening up, and Dave would just have to deal with the possibility of doing the same. He'd had these talks with Rose plenty of times before, but that didn't mean that Dave was any good at them, or that they were easy.

Silence fell on them again, before Dave pointedly paused the game and set down his controller. John looked defeated for a moment. (_He thinks I'm gonna bolt again._)

"Dave, if you don't want to tell me about it that's fine, but I really think-" the brunette trailed off as Dave held up a finger, turning to face him on the couch. He adjusted his shades in a manner that could only be described as self conscious, sighed, and fidgeted a bit more. John was being expectant but patient, which Dave appreciated, and it helped to steel his nerves a little bit.

"...I've got a couple of reasons." he eventually mumbled, trying to decide just how he was going to try and explain this. Then again, if anyone could understand his reasons, it was John. "...I like them, first of all, and I'm used to wearing them. That part hasn't changed." John nodded, a wry smirk in place (possibly in regards to Dave's fashion choices, but old habits died hard). "Also, the magma on LOHAC was always so bright, and after how black the Medium was, sunlight is still a bit much for me."

John nodded somewhat sympathetically at that, as they had all had quite a bit of difficulty readjusting their eyes and circadian rhythms to blue skies after years of blackness. Dave paused for another long while, and John let him, both unable to avoid reminiscing for a moment about everything that happened under those wide, black skies. Dave shuddered privately, and John politely failed to notice.

"They're also the only thing in my life that the Game didn't change."

John's (_blue blue blue_) eyes snapped to his then, wide with surprise and understanding, and it made Dave both relieved and uncomfortable. After a long minute of Dave feeling like John was trying to x-ray him with his brain, the other boy smiled and turned back to his controller, shattering the tension for both of them. (_Thank god._) He looked curious for more information but satisfied with Dave's answer, which the blonde was glad of. He had plenty of other reasons behind those glasses that he was much less keen on disclosing, particularly to a certain brunette, but there was no need for that now.

Right now he was here, in a normal life, with his normal best friend, and everything could be okay. They both had their secrets, and that was okay too, for now.

(_I still wear them because I got them from you._)

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I AM SO SORRY GUYS PLEASE DON'T KILL ME

I should have updated this fic AGES AGO but I just recently remembered its existence among the myriad of financial and social shenanigans that is college life, and I can make no other excuses.

This chapter is mostly filler, but I wanted to at least post _something, _and I'm sorry it's not more substantial but HERE HAVE SOME FLUFF


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